


It Feels Like The Sky Is Falling

by Alisadblaze



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Baltimore Crabs (Blaseball Team), Beta Read, Charleston Shoe Thieves, Content Warning: Panic Attack, Day X, Houston Spies, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, POV Third Person, Panic Attack, Season 9, Season 9 Day X, Season 9 Playoffs, They/them pronouns for almost everyone, Wild Low, cw: panic attack, except sosa and malik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27493294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisadblaze/pseuds/Alisadblaze
Summary: Season 9. The Spies were on track to make it big during Season 9. If only they knew what was ahead for them...My first Blaseball fic! I'm very excited to be sharing this with you all. This fic has been a long time coming since it's about Season 9, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless. Spies WinBig thank you to my friend and beta reader Roya for helping me out.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	It Feels Like The Sky Is Falling

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: There is another warning in the fic itself, but just wanted to let you all know now: A character in this fic has a panic attack.

The Spies had done it again. They were at the playoffs for the second season in a row. Everyone was super excited, as expected. There were a few, though, who were a bit skeptical of what was to come.

Fitz was sitting at a table, mulling things over as they drank their coffee. They longed for the advice and companionship of their old friend Val, who was always willing to listen to their theories. But Val had gone to the Tacos thanks to the dreaded Feedback. Val had known the most about Feedback, but Fitz barely got to talk with Val anymore.

And even NaN, the enigma they and Val were so interested in. They barely got to talk to NaN about what happened during that awards night before the Feedback struck again, sending NaN over to Mexico City and giving Spies the energetic Sosa.

Fitz looked over Sosa and Karato’s files in disbelief. As if the Spies didn’t have enough to worry about this season, there was a Reverb. They had honestly forgotten about those until it happened to the team midway through the season. It was unfortunate timing as well; they had just made the Spies pitching roster better than ever. Now they had to start over again.

Someone cleared their throat, jarring Fitz from their thoughts. They jumped, nearly spilling their coffee as they looked up to see who had come in. 

“Didn’t mean to scare ya there, Fitz,” Math stated, pulling up a chair so Math could sit at the table. Alex and Denzel were with Math as well, pulling up their chairs. Math continued, “You seem like you’re more troubled than normal.”

Fitz sighed, putting their coffee mug down. “These playoffs are going to be an interesting one for sure,” they told the group. “While I’m pretty confident we can beat the Flowers, I’m not sure if the Sunbeams can beat the Crabs. If  _ they _ can’t, there’s no way we can beat them either.”

“Sure, we can!” Alex declared with a smile on their lips. “We’re not a loser team now. We’re so much more powerful; we’ve got this!”

Denzel laughed. “It’s nice that you’re still optimistic about this, Alex, but I would sadly have to disagree.” They raised an eyebrow, so Denzel elaborated. “Look, that Reverb messed with our team more than I’d like to admit.. I don’t think we have a chance of making it to the finals anymore.”

“I’d have to agree with that,” Fitz voiced, pouring over their notes again. “While we’re still a much stronger team than we used to be...” They trailed off.

Alex sighed, running their hand through their hair. “I understand that, but we can still try, right?” They looked up at the rest of the group, hesitation in their eyes.

Math put a hand on Alex’s shoulder to reassure them. “Just because our likelihood of winning is small doesn’t mean we won’t give it all we got. The Spies can do it!”

The room erupted into a chorus of laughs. There was excitement and happiness in the air, Fitz could tell. They shook their head, laughing along with the group.

If only the group knew what was coming.

.

.

.

.

Season 9 Day 109. The first part of the playoffs had gone off without a hitch. The Spies had nearly swept the Boston Flowers, beating them two games to one. After that, the team advanced to the Semifinals, where they were up against their greatest enemy, the Baltimore Crabs. 

The Crabs had destroyed them in the playoffs last season. Not only that, but during the first round of the current playoffs, the birds had freed Nagomi McDaniel, the strongest hitter in all of Blaseball. Despite this, the Spies were determined to beat them once and for all.

Game 1 of the Semifinals went well. The Spies beat the Crabs. They had a party that night, careful not to go too overboard. It was only the beginning of the playoffs, and it shouldn’t be celebrated too early. But now, on day 109, it was time for Game 2.

Game 2 was going very well. The Spies were in the lead going into the top of the 9th, and if they managed to prevent the Crabs from scoring, the Spies could win another game. Unfortunately, however, the Crabs were able to achieve a run through an RBI. 

The bottom of the 9th arrived, and the Spies were up to bat. Math was up first. While Math tried Math’s best, after seasons of pitching, Math wasn’t used to batting and ended up hitting a flyout.

“You’ll get back into the swing of things eventually,” Comfort told Math as Math re-entered the dugout. “We’re all still getting adjusted to the Reverb.”

“You’re telling me,” Karato added, fidgeting with a blaseball. They and Sosa had been immersed in an in-depth discussion when Math came back in. Despite there being plenty of space on the bench, Sosa always preferred standing. He was still adjusting his trenchcoat, frequently pulling it closed as if he had something to hide. Karato didn’t seem to care; the rest of the Spies didn’t either. Karato continued, “I’ve never pitched before, same with Sosa. I’m afraid that we’re letting down the team because of it.”

Sosa nodded in agreement and was about to say something when Malik cut him off. “Don’t be like that, guys.” Malik walked over to where Karato and Sosa were standing, putting xyr hands on their shoulders. “Look, I realize you guys might have high expectations of yourselves, especially since you only joined the Spies recently. Trust me, I felt the same way when I first came over. You guys have nothing to worry about. Just do your best, and it’ll be just fine.”

Jordan and Marco gave a small round of applause once Malik finished talking, and even Theodore seemed moved, wiping a tear away from their eye. Malik gave a slight bow, which made Sosa and Karato break out into laughter. Fitz smiled at the team.

“Alright, we’ve stalled the game long enough,” Jordan stated, tossing one of the bats to Morrow. “You’re up, Wilson. You got this.” Morrow nodded and walked up to the plate.

Fitz walked out of the dugout and stood in front of it to better watch the game, several others joining them. Everyone focused intently on the game.

Morrow was trying their best, but he wasn’t the best batter. They were doing pretty well until they hit their second foul ball.

As typical, everyone’s eyes had followed the ball to see where it would land. It was clear that it was a foul ball, but as everyone was looking at the sky, they noticed an object in the sky. Now it had been raining peanuts earlier since the weather was Peanuts that day, but during the 9th inning, they had stopped.

Brock Forbes, the pitcher for the Crabs, figured it out first. “EVERYONE CLEAR THE FIELD!” they called, waving their arms around. The Crabs were jogging off the field, but Morrow looked back up at the sky to see what Brock had been referring to.

Fitz did too, and that’s when they saw it. It was a Big Peanut, heading straight for the field. “Get out of there!” They yelled to Morrow, quickly retreating into the dugout.

\------------------------  **WARNING:** \------------------------

**The following part of this fic includes a character having a panic attack. If you are uncomfortable with those, please skip to the next dotted line.**

The Spies standing outside to view the game quickly retreated inside, but Morrow remained outside. The Crabs were still going inside their dugout, but Morrow was as still as a statue.

Morrow stared at the Big Peanut, panic flowing through their veins. They weren’t sure where it would land, but they began to panic.  _ W-What if it hits me? _ They thought, their breathing and heartbeat beginning to increase.  _ We know what happened to Quitter from the Tacos; what if that happened to me? _

As their panic began to increase, Morrow clutched their head and shut their eyes.  _ The Peanut’s going to hit me. I’m a goner, I’m a goner, this is the end-- _

Morrow could hear someone yelling and opened their eyes slightly to see Comfort and Theodore running over. Morrow looked at their teammates, eyes wide and ears ringing, not hearing anything they were saying. Their two friends quickly rushed Morrow off the field.

And not a moment too soon. As soon as the trio made it safely into the dugout, the Big Peanut crashed into the field, right on the pitcher’s mound. The umpires began clearing the Big Peanut from the area, although it took quite a while (it was a colossal peanut).

Morrow sat down on one of the benches, clutching themselves and shaking. Comfort and Theodore sat down next to them, Son, Fitz, and Alex joining as well.

“I-I was so scared,” Morrow explained, their voice shaking. “I was t-terrified that the peanut might h-hit me, I just froze. I-I didn’t expect to me s-so scared, I… I-”

“Calm down, Morrow,” Alex comforted, placing a hand on Morrow’s shoulder. “Morrow, I need you to look at me and do as I say, okay?” Morrow, still shaking, faced Alex and nodded. Alex continued, “I need you to breathe in for four seconds, hold for four seconds, breathe out for four seconds, and then repeat, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Morrow nodded and started following Alex’s instructions. Math and Denzel stepped out of the dugout to talk with one of the umpires about the Big Peanut situation. While this scene was happening, Fitz was standing by the steps, thinking about the situation.

\------------------------  **WARNING OVER, PLEASE PROCEED** \------------------------

Denzel and Math soon returned, and Denzel cleared their throat to get everyone’s attention. By that point, Morrow had mostly calmed down, although they were still pretty shaken.

“They’ve cleared the Big Peanut off the field,” Math announced. Morrow let out a big sigh of relief as Math continued. “The Crabs are going back onto the field; play is about to resume.” Math looked over at Morrow, who froze with fear. 

“Are you sure you’re up for this, Morrow?” Comfort asked, putting a hand on Morrow’s shoulder. The rest of the team looked over at Morrow, the tension hanging in the air.

Morrow took a deep breath, stood up, and began to speak. “I’m honestly s-still a little scared, but… Blaseball must go on, and as such, I have to go back onto the plate.”

Jordan walked up to Morrow and handed them their bat. “You’re up again, Wilson. Good luck out there.” Morrow nodded and took their bat. They took a deep breath before heading out to the plate.

Unfortunately, Morrow still wasn’t at their best and ended up hitting a ground out to Sutton Dreamy, one of the Crabs’s outfielders. The rest of the 9th inning went off without anything changing. The Spies kept the game tied, and it moved on into extra innings.

Top of the 10th. Sosa was pitching, and he was going his best, and both Tot Fox and Forrest Best hit a ground out and a flyout, respectively. The Spies just had to get one more player out, and they would move onto the bottom of the inning, where if they could score, they could shame the Crabs and win.

Next up to bat, though, was the Crabs’s strongest player: Nagomi McDaniel. At first, everything seemed promising: she hit two foul balls in a row. One strike, and she would be out.

Sosa breathed in, stared down the field, and threw the ball. All was silent as it whizzed through the air. All of a sudden,  _ CRACK! _ Nagomi’s bat made contact with the ball, and it went sailing across the stadium, right past the bleachers. It was a solo home run.

The top of the inning ended with another ground out, and the Spies retreated to their dugout. Everyone was noticeably frustrated. At least there was still a chance to tie it up in the bottom of the inning. Hopes were high, but not by much.

The Spies played their best, but the Crabs’s pitcher was too good. Even though Comfort managed to get a Single, Denzel and Fitz struck out, and Malik, though determined, hit a ground out. Game Two was over; the Crabs had won.

There was silence in the group at the stadium emptied, leaving only the Spies. The silence was almost deafening as they made their way back to their base.

“Well, there’s still two more games!” Sosa cheered, patting Karato and Comfort on their backs. “Sure, today wasn’t the best, but we can still bounce back!”

Malik gave Sosa a sad smile. “Nice to see you’re still in good spirits,” xe replied. Sosa smiled in response, and the duo left the room, Karato and Son following close behind.

Comfort, Alex, and Denzel talked about the other games that happened today over a plate of cheese fries, Jordan listening intently to the conversation.

Fitz marched past everyone and cleared off the meeting table in front of the meeting room’s central computer hub without a word. Math, Marco, and Reese stopped by to see Fitz writing furiously in their notes, papers scattered across the table.

“Everything okay there, Fitz?” Marco asked, leaning against the wall in the doorway. Math and Reese walked into the actual room, reading over the papers.

Fitz looked up from the table, their eyes wide. “Marco, go grab the rest of the team and bring them here. I’m calling an emergency meeting.”

Marco, confused, nodded and sprinted back into the hallway. Fitz rested his head in his hands, exasperated by something. Math and Reese exchanged looks.

Soon enough, the rest of the Spies were in the meeting room. Everyone looked expectantly at Fitz, who was staring at the mess of papers on the table again.

“What’s this all about, Fitz?” Morrow asked, fidgeting with a pen. The whole room was silent, waiting for Fitz to explain why they had called the meeting.

Fitz stood and began to speak to the room. “This meeting is of utmost importance for the playoffs.” They slammed his hands onto the table, making some of the Spies jump at the sound. “I’ve been doing some theorizing and analyzing, and I’ve come to a conclusion…” They hesitated, but after a few moments, revealed their point: “We gotta throw the game.”

The room erupted into a chorus of shouts. Everyone was shocked that Fitz would suggest such an idea. The shouting continued until Fitz put a single flickering hand up, and the room went silent.

Fitz continued, “Directive One takes priority in this situation. I am not sure what’s going to happen, but something is coming, something big. And I don’t think the Spies will be capable of handling it.”

“So, we’re just going to give up and lose to the Crabs AGAIN?” Morrow protested, throwing their pen to the floor. “We’ve already made it so far--”

“Morrow, STOP!” Fitz bellowed, their voice almost unnaturally loud. “Goddammit, we are spies first, athletes second, Morrow! I don’t want to risk the Spies right now, especially if my theory is correct.”

The room was dead silent. Morrow stared down at Fitz, almost as if they were ready for a fight. They took a defiant step forward, but Son ran over and grabbed Morrow’s hand, looking up at their friend. Morrow took a deep breath, swallowed their pride, and nodded. 

“If that’s what you want, Fitz, then it’s probably for the best,” they admitted, hanging their head in defeat. Before anyone else could say anything, Morrow left the room. Son ran after them, and Marco soon after.

The Spies exchanged looks with one another as Fitz sat back down into their chair, putting their head in their hands again. Most of the Spies took this as a sign to leave, but Math stayed behind.

Math pulled up a chair and sat down next to Fitz. Fitz let out a big sigh, sinking into their chair and staring at the ceiling.

“What’s this all about, Fitz?” Math asked sympathetically, looking back at Math’s old friend. “I understand why Directive One takes priority, but why now? When we’re so close to finally beating the Crabs?”

Fitz stood up, grabbed a few pieces of paper on the table, and handed them to Math. They then turned around to face the wall as Math read the articles. “That big peanut today has made me worried… We had the fourth strike last season, and The Shelled One said they would be back…” they looked over at Math, worry in their eyes. “I think this is a sign, Math. A sign that it’s coming.”

.

.

.

.

Season 9, Day 116. It was the final day of the playoffs, the championship game between the Crabs and the Shoe Thieves. Early on in the finals, the Crabs had looked like they were about to win. They a 2-0 game lead against the Shoe Thieves. Against all odds, however, the Shoe Thieves came roaring back and tied the series 2-2. This was the final game to decide who would be the champions for Season 9.

The Spies were intently watching the championship game on their central console. They had their large hub screen in their meeting room, chairs set up all around. Everyone was talking while watching the game.

“Do you guys think the Crabs will finally ascend?” Jordan asked, staring intently at the screen. They leaned over to look at the table where Marco and Alex were writing furiously on their scorecards, trying to keep up with the game.

“Who knows, but I’m excited!” Son cheered, jumping up and down on their chair. Comfort looked up and smiled at Son’s enthusiasm before snapping their attention back to the game and their scorecard.

Fitz stood leaning against the wall as the game continued. They watched all their friends chat and discuss the playoffs, and they couldn’t help but feel proud of them, of all they’ve done.

They felt a tap on their shoulder, and they whirled around in surprise to see Math standing next to them. Fitz breathed a sigh of relief as Math began to speak.

“What do you think is going to happen?” Math asked, gesturing to the game on the screen. Fitz looked over at the game to see what was going on. It was the beginning of the 9th inning, with the Crabs leading 4-2.

“Well, most likely, the Crabs will win unless the Shoe Thieves manage to pull a big comeback,” Fitz told Math. The duo stared at the screen as the game continued. 

The Shoe Thieves were doing great defense and managed to get all three outs in quick succession. The room grew loud with applause before it died down as Velasquez Alstott went up to bat first for the Shoe Thieves.

At first, the Spies couldn’t believe it. Alstott hit a single, and then Simon Haley drew a walk. Next up to the plate was Stu Trololol.

Comfort turned to Denzel and whispered, “If they make this comeback and shame the Crabs, I swear, it’ll be the greatest comeback in the history of--”

_ CRACK! _ The sound coming from the screen was deafening as Stu’s bat made contact with the ball. All eyes were on the screen, the camera following the ball as it sailed across the stadium into the bleachers. Stu had hit a 3-run home run, shaming the Crabs and causing the Shoe Thieves to become the Season 9 champions.

The room was dead silent as the Spies stared in awe at the screen. Comfort looked down at their scorecard gleefully, patting Marco on the back as they looked at their card in awe.

“Looks like those Crabs were breakable after all,” Reese claimed, a smile on their lips. Everyone began to take their eyes off the screen, looking at one another as the truth set in.

Malik rubbed xyr hands together. “Alright, this calls for some celebratory food!” Xe announced, grabbing Alex by their shoulders. “What do you say we go make some pizza?”

“That sounds awesome right now!” Son beamed, running across the room to hug Malik in gratitude. They looked up at Malik with bright eyes. “Can you make your awesome pepperoni pizza?”

“Of course, kiddo!” xe replied. “Anyone else here want other toppings for pizzas? Just cheese, bacon? I know you’re a fan of sausage, Denzel.” Malik made mental notes as xe talked.

Sosa raised his hand to speak, but Alex cut him off. “I’m going to stop you right there, Sosa. I don’t need any of your weird food suggestions; we’re trying to have a normal meal, not one of the weird concoctions you make with Comfort.”

Sosa and Comfort looked at one another and laughed in defeat. Malik and Alex left the room to prepare the food.

Fitz was still glued to the game on the screen as the bottom of the inning wrapped up. The Shoe Thieves were celebrating on the field, and Fitz couldn’t help but feel happy for them.

Fitz’s happy thoughts instantly shattered when the screen suddenly went black, and the lights in the room dimmed, and the base’s alarm began to shriek, red light filling the room. 

The alarm kept blaring, a monotone robot announcer repeating the same message: “EMERGENCY ALERT! EMERGENCY ALERT!” The words were also flashing on the computer screen.

“What’s going on?!” Denzel bellowed, trying to be heard over the siren. Malik and Alex sprinted back into the meeting room, shutting the door behind them in a panic.

Jordan ran over to the console and pulled open a second screen at Charleston’s local news network. Emergency Alert was also flashing on the screen, along with multiple reports of something strange.

“There are reports of something large in the horizon coming to Charleston,” Jordan reported, trying to make sense of the news.

Fitz was pacing back and forth, their thoughts becoming messy as they tried to predict what’s going to happen. As they did this, they passed by the radio the Spies kept in the room. The Spies had never used it, but ever since the Wyatt Masoning and the start of Feedback, the Microphone had communicated through radio. Because of this, the Spies keep theirs on hand to make sure they don’t miss a broadcast.

Suddenly, the radio came to life. Karato immediately sprinted across the room, fiddling with it until they could hear a voice coming from it.

“The Microphone is talking!” Karato announced. Fitz whirled around to stare at the radio as the rest of the room piled in to listen.

The Microphone was always hard to hear due to the feedback, but messages kept coming through, garbled, and almost incomprehensible.

“IT’S HAPPENING, FRIENDS!” The voice bellowed, filling the entire room. Despite coming from a tiny radio, the voice seemed almost unnaturally loud. “TAKE COVER! INCOMIN-” The transmission abruptly cut out.

The Spies all looked at one another in bewilderment. Jordan ran back over to the main screen and fiddled with the controls again, trying to get the game back on screen.

They found the right channel and put it up on the screen. Shaky footage was live from the Charleston stadium, the Shoe Thieves looking at one another with worry.

As soon as the camera became stable, there was a loud  _ BOOM! _ It sounded like thunder, only lounder. It was deafening, even for the volume the screen was at. Everyone in the room jumped at the noise, Son running to grab Comfort in fear. 

The video on the screen panned up to get a view of the sky. It was unnaturally dark, and with great blinding light in the middle, almost like a crack. And there was a shape descending from the light. At first, no one could determine who or what it was. But as soon as it began to speak, everyone knew.

“I AM HERE!” The voice boomed. The voice filled everyone with dread as  _ it, _ The Shelled One, appeared from the light. “AND YOU ARE OUT!”

“Holy shit, it’s back!” Morrow exclaimed, eyes wide with horror. Fitz was already scrambling to find his notes, eventually grabbing a large folder from the filing cabinet.

The Shelled One continued its speech, a red glow emanating from it. The camera zoomed in to get a better view. Suddenly, multiple red lights went off in the sky, and in its place were giant peanuts.

“W-Wait…” Theodore hesitated, pointing at the screen. “A-are those the players who were shelled? Did The Shelled One take them?”

Fitz started spreading their notes out on a spare table, exasperated. “I had ideas for what The Shelled One might do if it came back,” they admitted. “But… I can’t predict its actions.”

“YOU THINK YOU ARE SO TOUGH?” The Shelled One boomed, the red light emanating from the being becoming brighter and brighter. “YOU THINK YOU HAVE POWER?” In a flash, the light dispersed and went into tiny shapes floating by it. The new lights descended onto the field across from the Shoe Thieves and, leaving behind people. “WE WILL SEE.”

Alex audibly gasped at the screen as the camera zoomed in on the newly arrived people. “Morrow, I-I think you might be right…”

There, standing on the field, were the previously shelled players. Their eyes were glowing red, and they were all wearing black and red Blaseball uniforms. “TIME TO TEACH YOU SOME DISCIPLINE.”

The camera suddenly went dark, and when it turned back on, the scene had changed. The Shoe Thieves were in their fielding positions, Jaylen Hotdogfingers on the pitching mound. The new players were all lined up where the Crabs were, Peanut Bong heading up to the plate with a bat. 

A new scoreboard appeared on the screen. Instead of its standard layout, two health bars appeared. One for the Charleston Shoe Thieves, the other for “THE SHELLED ONE’S PODS”

“I-it’s a battle,” Sosa exclaimed, horrified at what has happened on screen. “No scores, possibly no limit on the number of innings, just… a battle.”

The Spies stared in shock as the game went on. Each action caused damage to each team’s health bar, and the Pods had such a more extensive health bar than the Shoe Thieves. It was an impossible victory.

The game progressed into the third inning, and Karato ran up to the screen in horror as a new Pod stepped up to the plate. “No no no no no, this can’t be real!” They fretted as the camera zoomed in on the Pod.

Son ran over to join Karato as the camera focused on the player. It was York Silk, the pride and joy of the Hawai’i Fridays. But now he was a part of the Pods, eyes glowing red with anger as he stepped up to bat.

“W-why is he like that?” Son asked, pointing at the screen. “If York’s unshelled, why is he so different? I wanna go see him!”

Karato looked down at Son, a sad look on their face. “Look, Son… you won’t be able to see York for a while.” Son tilted his head in confusion at Karato’s response

“But, he’s right there!” Son exclaimed, pointing at the screen again. “Once the game is over, I could go see him! Can’t I?”

Karato looked away from the screen and bent down to face Son. They opened their mouth to try and say something but decided not to and simply put their hand on Son’s shoulder. 

It was at that point that Son realized the truth of the situation. They ran over and hugged Karato, crying into their shoulder. Karato hesitated for a second but then hugged Son back. 

The duo sat in the corner, mourning the loss of their friend York. Teddy and Alex went over and joined them, trying to keep Son happy despite the situation.

Fitz stared at the game, seemingly emotionless. They were sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the room, and Marco walked on over, a grim look on their face.

“What do you think is going to happen after this?” They asked nervously. Fitz looked away from the game for the first time and stared at Marco, who continued. “What does this mean for the future of Blaseball?”

Fitz, remaining emotionless, responded. “We’re going to take this one step at a time. We’re going to react, recover, and then plan our options from there.” Marco nodded in affirmation and walked back towards the computer screens to continue watching the game.

Fitz let out a sigh, leaning over the table and propping their head up with their hands. Many of the Spies looked up to Fitz, so they felt the need to be the stoic one in this dire situation. But as the game went on, they could feel the hope draining out of everyone, themselves included.

Fitz saw someone moving towards them out of the corner of their eye and tilted their head to see Math walking over, pulling up a chair to sit next to Fitz. Math said nothing, merely placing a hand on Fitz’s shoulder. Math understood the pressure Fitz was under, reassuring Fitz that everything would be okay.

The game ended as suddenly as it had begun. Jessica Telephone hit a solo home run, dealing a massive chunk of damage to the Shoe Thieves, knocking their remaining health away. The Shelled One began to glow red again, and the energy radiated across the entire field, encompassing the Shoe Thieves.

“AMUSING,” The Shelled One bellowed. The camera panned down to show the Shoe Thieves again, the red aura fading from the team. The players stared in shock at one another, struggling to comprehend what just happened.

“WANT TO SAVE YOUR FRIENDS?” It taunted, it’s voice louder than ever. “GIVE ME YOUR BEST SHOT!” Suddenly, the players apart of The Shelled One’s teams teleported up into the sky, disappearing in the blink of an eye. The Shelled One glowed a threatening red one last time. “I WILL BE WAITING.” Then, as soon as it arrived, the giant being vanished.

Sosa shut off the computer, filling the room with silence. The Spies stared at one another, trying to process the events.

Reese was about to speak when suddenly, the phone in the meeting room began to ring. Fitz immediately ran over to the phone. They had installed the phone after NaN had feedbacked off the team, as they wanted to keep in contact with NaN.

Fitz grabbed the phone and held it up to their ear. “NaN?” They asked desperately. “NaN, are you there? Why are you calling right now? What’s going on over there?”

The others waited in bated breath for Fitz’s reaction. NaN occasionally called during Season 9 to give Fitz some updates about their situation and report other information pieces.

“W-what do you mean by that?” Fitz pleaded. “What’s going on, and why don’t you sound like-” They stopped and stood there for a few moments, stunned. Then, Fitz grabbed the phone and brought it over to the console.

Fitz hooked up the phone and started running a bunch of analyzers onto the call they just had. The Spies walked over, confused. Comfort was the only one to speak up, asking, “Hey Fitz, what did NaN talk about?”

“It’s complicated, okay?” Fitz explained, visibly confused. “At first, the other end was silent, but then there was a lot of garbled noises, and when NaN finally spoke, it didn’t sound like them?”

The Spies were even more confused than before. The computer programs were finally up and running, so Fitz gestured to the screen and started the applications. The call contained many garbled radio-like noises and other seemingly unrelated sounds, but suddenly, it all went silent. 

A voice spoke, one that was almost deafening compared to the rest of the call. All the voice said was, “Have hope” before the recording ended.

“That didn’t sound like NaN at all!” Son confirmed, looking at the screen with a mixture of awe and confusion. “Who was that?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Denzel replied. The group stared intently at the screen as the programs ran. After what felt like an eternity, the results popped up on the screen; The voice was Wyatt Mason.

Fitz slumped down onto the chair at the desk, staring at the screen. The room was dead silent, the Spies trying to process the day’s events. Everyone looked at one another, their faces empty and hollow.

Fitz finally broke the silence, announcing, “Tomorrow, there will be a team meeting to go over today’s events.” There was no emotion in their voice. 

The Spies slowly trickled out of the room, talking in hushed tones about what they’re going to do now. Fitz looked over their notes, sighed, and walked over to the coffee machine.  _ It’s going to be another long night for me _ , they thought.

When the coffee machine had finished, Fitz grabbed their mug and walked over to the table. They sat down, took out a pen, and started writing.

The night was only just beginning in Houston, and at this time of night, the base was usually bustling with activity. Karato and Son would be found skating around, Comfort and Sosa would be cooking up some concoction in the kitchen, and Morrow would be telling jokes, filling the base with laughter. But today, for the first time in Spies history…

The base was silent.


End file.
